


i think he knows

by writerangel



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, Love Confessions, Oblivious Spencer, Other, morning person spence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27155158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerangel/pseuds/writerangel
Summary: spencer reid is the smartest person you know, so he must know your feelings about him. right?
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 92





	i think he knows

**Author's Note:**

> based off of the song i think he knows by taylor swift. u don't need to listen to it to understand the fic but it helps!

Spencer Reid was probably the smartest person you knew. Not only did he look the part, dressed like a college student taken directly from _The Dead Poets Society_ , but he also reminded you, and everyone you worked with, of it whenever you saw him. Without fail, he would always have a new fact, statistic, or academically leaning statement in relation to whatever you were currently talking about. He spoke about these things with such confidence; it didn’t sound like a little Instagram fact he read about on his way over, but more like muscle memory, the same way one would know their own name or their best friend’s favorite candy. 

Funnily enough, Spencer forgot his name the first time you met him. Unfortunately for him, he had arrived with the beginning trickle of the morning workers. It wasn’t the 8 am rush of ‘I’m going to be late but to hell I’m not gonna have my coffee” type people. But it was loud enough to scare a timid customer, especially if it was their first time in the shop. 

You passed right by him, returning from a quick bathroom break, when you overheard your coworker, Alyssa, asking for his name to put on the order. He seemed to be lost in a deep thought because his face was contorted in a way that looked like he may have been pursing his lips, and your coworker needed to ask him the question again. 

“Huh?” He looked dazed, like a puppy lost in a loud crowd. He tried to shake his brain back to reality. 

“I need your name, hon. For your order?” She shook his empty cup in reference. 

“Oh! Right. It’s Reid, Doctor Spencer Reid.” As she began jotting down his name on the cup, he cleared his throat. “I don’t know why I added the Doctor. You don’t really need that.”

“Too late, sweetheart. Please step to the side while you wait for your order. Next!” 

He shuffled awkwardly to his left, joining the small congregation of people waiting for their order. The altercation made you internally laugh to yourself. It was quite adorable, really. Lost puppy turned into scared puppy. 

When you got the aforementioned cup, you looked down at Alyssa’s neat handwriting. Seeing what she wrote, you poked your other coworker, Zoe, in their side. 

“Ow! What?” They looked up after taking out a sandwich from the toaster oven.

“She spelt it R-e-a-d. No one has a last name spelt R-e-a-d.” 

Zoe shook their head, and the pair of you looked over at your coworker, who was dealing with a picky customer with the most patience one could have at this hour. “Idiot.”

Grabbing your sharpie from your apron’s front pocket you crossed out Alyssa’s ‘Read’ and under it wrote R-e-e-d. The correction still felt wrong but you weren’t sure on what the correct spelling would be. Just to be safe you added a hesitant question mark beside it before beginning on his drink.

You didn’t see him the following morning, but rather about a week later, and this time he made sure to join the earlier, more quiet crowd. Instead of arriving with the 6:45 bustle, the bell chimed at 5:32 am. Being open for only about half an hour, the store was occupied with a only a few people: Frank and Sarah, a lovely married couple that enjoy their quiet breakfast talk; Andrews, a retired old man that just last month added our ‘strongest black coffee’ to his daily routine; and Kimiko, a tired high school student who always orders a slice of banana bread with her double Mocha, but always switches around with her daily flavor. And now Spencer could be added to that list. 

Because of the quiet morning crowd, your other coworkers don’t typically come in until 6:15, 6:30 to aid with the morning rush. Leaving you alone with Spencer. And the rest of the pairings, of course. 

He cleared his throat before speaking. “It’s a lot quieter at this time.”

“Yeah, the louder, more angry types don’t usually wake up until a bit closer to seven.” 

“Did you know that the term ‘morning person’ really comes from how one’s circadian rhythm is wired? And if one actually put enough work into it they could alter their circadian rhythm in a way that makes them into a quote unquote ‘morning person.’” 

This was the first time he dropped one of his many facts on you and all you managed to do was blink at him. For one, it was so very early, and you weren’t easily equipped for learning new things at such an hour. But also it stunned you the way he knew all of that. The way he spoke sounded like he was reciting from a book. Instead of remarking on what the information he just gave you, you said, “So what can I get for you?” 

“Umm,” he was pondering over the menu, trying to take his time today. “Do you have any breakfast sandwiches?” 

“Yeah!” You walked over to the case display of breakfast sandwiches so it was easier for him to look and decide. “Here you go.” 

He followed you and leaned down to get a good look at them. “Oh good.” You would have felt self conscious, as he was essentially critiquing your work, but you were distracted at how you found his behavior peculiar, funny, in a good way. “I’ll have… the bacon, cheddar, egg.” 

You walked back to your cashier station to ring him up while he stayed in his spot. “Great. Anything else?” 

“What’s a good strong coffee you guys have that’s also really sweet? Like _really_ sweet.” 

“We have a chocolate cappuccino.” 

He thought it over. It seemed to suit him because he nodded in response. “Okay, I’ll have that.” 

“Yeah?” For some reason that made you smile. 

And he smiled back. “Yeah.” 

You finished ringing up his order and then told him he could sit anywhere he liked. He chose the table to the front side of the counter and pulled out a book from his messenger bag. Meanwhile, you placed his sandwich in the oven toaster and started on his drink. Another thing you loved about opening was it being the perfect time for you to practice your coffee art. Today you gave him a classical fern. Once his order was ready you walked it over to him. 

“Here you go.” He didn’t say anything for the remainder of his time and just read his book. 

He stayed longer than the rest of the early morning go-ers, almost a full hour of him reading. The morning was so quiet that sometimes you would be constantly drawn to the very rapid pace of his page turning. It was almost the speed of how you perused magazines in a waiting area. When Zoe arrived, he got ready to leave. Before he left, he said, “It’s R-E-I-D.” 

You and Zoe exchanged a confused look. “Excuse me?”

“My name? It’s not R-E-E-D, or even R-E-A-D. It’s R-E-I-D.” 

Realizing what he was referencing to, you said, “Oh.” And with that, he left. 

Zoe let out a soft chuckle as they removed their bag. “That dude is _so_ weird.” 

Yeah. Weird. 

The next day at work, before you opened, you looked around the work premises, even the storage room upstairs, for stencils. Right as you were beginning to feel like giving up, that you should just open up the store and forget this ever happened, you found the box. There were a few - animals, plants, even holiday themed ones - but no letters. Begrudgingly, you opened the store, stencilless. 

That night, you talked to your manager about purchasing lettering stencils, and after a good fifteen minutes of convincing, she relented and agreed. This left you anxiously waiting for three days, until they came. You actually had never worked with stencils before, but if you could master the complex milk art how hard could this be? Sadly you overestimated your own skills. It took you many cups of coffee before you managed to perfect it. Finally, you were able to do the very thing you sought out to do. This time on Spencer’s usual coffee, instead of your latest nature art practice, you used the stencils to spell ‘REID’, the correct way this time. 

After you dropped off the order at his table, you scurried back to sweep behind the counter. There was no reason to be but you still were nervous at how he might react. He probably found it weird. It was a bit weird, going so much out of your way just to spell his name right. What were you doing? Spending weeks and company money for four simple letters for just one customer.

If somehow he found it weird, he didn’t let on. Instead he gave out a little laugh that made your shoulders relax. He had a soft laugh, which somehow surprised you. “You spelt it correctly.” 

His positive reaction breathed confidence back into you. Broom in hand, you walked back to his table, trying not to disturb the other customers. “I did.” 

“I like it. What is it?” 

“Oh, just some chocolate powder.” He took a sip. “How is it?” 

“Great as always. You’re really good at that foam art. Are you an art student?”

You shook your head, flattered at his comment. “No, I just think it’s neat.” Looking down at the book in his hand, you noticed today’s topic was on string theory, whatever that was. “Are you a … scientist?” You spoke tentatively, unsure if that was the correct relation. 

Spencer smiled. “No, I just think it’s neat.” 

You eyed him as you let out a laugh. So he had jokes. He was cute, obviously smart, and now he had jokes. Where did this guy come from? 

“You just think _string theory_ is neat?” You were no scientist, in fact you totally B-averaged all your science courses at best. But string theory plus his book’s title (“String theory and M-theory, A Modern Introduction”) sounded way too complex to be boiled down to just neat. 

He nodded his head enthusiastically as he closed the book on his hand, holding his place. “Yes. String theory basically aims to address various theoretical conundrums, like how gravity works for objects such as electrons and photons. General relativity-”

“I’m going to have to stop you there. To be honest, you lost me at conundrums.” You gave him a shy smile and leaned on your broom set. “So what do you do that has you wake up pre-five am and just hang out here for an hour?” 

He took his hand out of his book and gestured towards the seat in front of him. “Do you want to sit down?” 

His question took you off guard, since no customer has ever asked you to join them while you chatted with them. It made more sense with this sparse crowd, but still. “Um, sure. Thanks.”

“My job is pretty chaotic so I think it’s important to take some time out of your day and calm things down. Why, are you taking a roll call or something?” He joked.

“Maybe I am.” You looked around you and saw everyone was left pretty much undisturbed. “I know these people pretty well, I’d say.”

“So you profile them.” 

“Excuse me?” 

He pursed his lips sharply, as if he accidentally exposed himself. “Um, I’m a profiler at the BAU.”

More nonsense jargon that you would in no way understand. “Is this more string theory related talk to get me to go away? Because you can just ask-” 

“No!” He cleared his throat and laughed off the way he spoke so pointedly. “No, I work with the FBI? I’m a profiler with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We assist local police departments by profiling the behavior of their suspect so they can be caught faster, rather than simply chasing them.” 

Kind of getting it, you tilted your head. “What do you mean profile?”

“Analyze their actions and past to understand how they’re going to act beforehand.” 

You figured he was right and it _was_ kind of like what you were doing. “Oh.”

“Yeah. So you know everyone?” 

“With this crowd. See over there,” you discretely pointed at the couple along the wall across from you. “That’s Frank and Sarah. They’ve been coming here for years and they’re like best friends with the owner. They’re like you; they like their breakfast calm. And in the corner next to the window is Andrews. I don’t know if that’s his real first name or whatnot but that’s what he always gives us. He switches up his order every once and a while and just likes to read his newspaper or people watch. And out there,” you shook your head in the direction out the door. “That’s Kimiko. She likes her coffee sorta like you do, but she gets mocha always, right before her early morning class.” Contorting your head a bit, to glance at the watch on Spencer’s wrist you saw the time: 5:53. “She usually leaves right abouuuut now.” Just like clockwork, she got up from her seat and left. 

With a small smile playing along your lips, you looked back at Spencer and found him impressed. “Wow. Ever think of changing your career?” 

A little chuckle escaped as your eyes fell to your hands and your face heated up. “This, this isn’t hard. It doesn’t take what you had to go through. People are predictable. When you wake up this early, just to have your coffee made by someone else, you tend to follow routines. You like routines. It’s comfortable.” 

“Did you know that our being drawn to routine actually comes from our human instinct? It’s a natural predisposition to ritualize our morning activities.” 

“You sure know a lot of stuff don’t you?” 

He shrugged. “I guess I do.”

#

It wasn’t clear to you when the lines began to blur between friendly banter and straight up, unadulterated flirting. You didn’t intend for it to start out that way, but once you started noticing it, you couldn’t seem to stop. The behavior and thrill of it all was addictive. The way you laughed a bit more than you would have preferred for at 6 am, your feet sometimes coming up to his, the occasional teasing or pointing out something about his appearance. It was painfully obvious. Hell, you could have sworn one time he caught you looking over at him. (He didn’t say anything, just gave you an awkward smile before returning to his reading about Henrietta Lacks.) 

Of course, it was inevitable that your coworkers were going to catch on. It was maybe one month after you noticed your excessive own flirting that Zoe finally caught on. They were telling you something about their mother and Dallas when you waved bye to Spencer as he left. 

They gave you a look, as if they found it a bit weird but didn’t say much of it. Instead, Zoe shook their head at the interaction. “That guy is so peculiar. He seems almost made up.” 

You stared wistfully at the door that previously closed with a _ding!_ “I don’t know, I think he’s interesting. He knows so much and he never seems to run out. Plus he’s nice to talk to.”

They squinted their eyes as they looked back and forth between you and the door. Trying to connect the puzzle dots: the wave, the distracted smile, the look at the door. “Oh my god.” 

Sharply, you turned your head towards them. Now they had your full attention. “What?” Your heart stopped beating and you slowly fell out of the high chair you were sitting in.

“Oh my god!” They didn’t elaborate, just spoke louder. The cafe was now empty until the next rush so the only person they got to annoy was you. 

“What! Zoe, for the life of me _please_ say something else.” 

A smile grew on their lips and they spoke with a pause between each word. “You have a crush.” 

Suddenly, it became very important that you begin to clean. You grabbed a clean rag and began wiping down the counter. “No I don’t.” 

Your new behavior only convinced Zoe more as they followed you to be up in your face. “Yes. Yes, you do! You like Doctor Genius.” Were they singing?

“Don’t be absurd, Zoe.” You shook your head. 

“Please, it’s so obvious.” They leaned their elbows on the counter and held their face in their hands, expression falling soft. “‘Oh you’re so smart, Mr. Reid. Oh you’re so funny, Doctor. Did you get a haircut, Spencer? See you tomorrow Spencer and we can make out in the back room-” Zoe cut themself off by making kiss noises. 

You threw the rag at their face to shut them up. “You’re like 12, you know that?”

They smirked, “Yeah on a scale of one to ten.” 

Groaning, “Shut up. Nothing’s happened.” 

Zoe snorted. “Yeah, yet.” 

Walking to wipe down the tables, you shook your head again. So you had a crush. Could Zoe really blame you, though? With his slender hands that steadily picked up his giant mug of cappuccino just made by you, and the put together sweater vests, and lips that always caught a little bit of foam, and- 

“Hey, Lovebird. Stop daydreaming.” Zoe called out to you from behind the counter.

You felt your face heat up. “I’m not.” 

“Yeah, okay. So when you going to ask him out?” 

Ask him out? No. That was not something that was in the cards for you. “Please. He already knows.” 

Zoe looked taken aback. “What?” 

“It’s like you said. It’s so obvious.”

“What makes you think he knows?”

“With someone as smart as him, he’d have to know by now. And he just doesn’t feel the same, so he doesn’t want to embarrass me by saying anything.” 

“Again, what makes you think he knows?”

“He knows about everything. He knows about string theory and circadic waves and he knows I like him.” 

“It’s circadian rhythms, first of all. And maybe he’s smart dumb.” Looking up from a table you were working on, you threw your coworker a glare. “I’m serious! Like maybe he’s a genius in everything but doesn’t know the person he likes is flirting with him. People are like that.” 

You thought about what they said for a moment. Zoe had a point; people _are_ like that. _You_ ’ve been like that. But Spencer… No. It’s not possible. Spencer Reid was the resident genius. He knew literally everything. Coming to your conclusion, you shook your head. “No. It’s not possible, Zoe.” 

They shrugged. “Just think about it.” 

You did end up thinking about it. You thought about it a lot. _Too_ much. You thought about it when you poured someone’s coffee, when you were brushing your teeth, when you walked by that one park near your house. By it, you meant your unfortunate dilemma. So you liked a cute guy and there was no way he liked you back. Big deal, right? You’re not in high school anymore. It’s certainly not like you were in _love_ with him or something. So you thought about the way on his weird work schedule he still found ways to go into your shop early in the morning and you thought about the way at exactly 5:32 on the dot that ding gave you a pavlovian effect. You even thought about how you still managed to flirt with him, despite coming to the reality that he would never feel the same. If you were going to suffer, why not have a little fun with it? With that, you cashed all in to your flirting game. 

It was nerve racking at first. You wondered if it was a totally immature thing for you to do. Morally there’s nothing wrong with hitting on a customer. Technically, the basic way to get great tips was flirt with all the customers. What’s one more? 

But still it made you so melty on the inside you were sure you were going to turn into lava and just burn a hole right through the floor. You would keep sinking and falling and going until you fell to your inevitable hell that you clearly deserved for something. 

But then Spencer would let out his classic soft laugh and just like every other time, and calm washed over you. The melty feeling simmered down and it didn’t feel quite as terrible. It became pick up lines practice and rehearsing your best jokes to everything in between. It kind of drove Zoe (and now Alyssa, she finally caught on) crazy, but it was also like they were in on the entertainment? They even started showing up to their shifts earlier and earlier to hang outside and watch it all unfold. You got to ride the high, your coworker’s mood’s started bright, and even Spencer looked happier. Within a couple of weeks, you felt unashamed and your self consciousness went away. 

Until two very life changing things happened. 

First, Frank did something you’ve never seen him do in the two years you’ve been working at the coffee shop. He came up to the cashier’s and dropped his tip in the “Tip me baby one more time” tip jar. Of course, you found it peculiar, definitely didn’t fit with his regular routine, but you just kindly thanked him and didn’t think much of it. But then, he looked around, and gestured for you to lean towards him. Terrified, you did. 

“You should go for it,” he whispered directly into your right ear. 

You gulped, your eyes got wide, an embarrassing warmth flew up to your ears and cheeks, the whole shebang. You straightened up the same time Frank did, but remained paralyzed in your position. 

“Wonderful breakfast as always. Thank you, Y/N. Have a nice day.” He smiled as if he didn’t give you the most chilling whisper of the lifetime and he and his wife made their way out. 

“Y-you too, Frank!” You managed to choke out a weak response. Amidst all your commotion, you immediately stole a look at Spencer but he remained with his nose stuck in his book. (It looked something Russian.) 

You were so wrapped up in your own ordeals that you didn’t even consider the fact that the other customers could catch on. Did everyone really know? 

The second thing that changed your life was you not showing up for a work shift. You had asked for a time off, but there was a glitch in the system, so you ended up having to ask another coworker to cover your shift. It was some guy, you didn’t really know his name (his contact was saved as coworker number five); you just knew he was reliable. The next morning, you woke up to a text from him saying “shift good, but some pasty noodle was asking for you lol.” 

A rollercoaster of emotions flew right through you. It was funny to read Spencer being described as a noodle, it was embarrassing to think that coworker number five might be added to the list of people who knew, and it was some indescribable emotion that Spencer? Was looking for you? Did this mean the little nerd missed you? 

Regretfully, your questions and feelings would not be answered for two more weeks. The first week a nasty blizzard blew through town and the second week, Spencer didn’t show up. Probably his weird FBI schedule. Naturally, all these turn of events made you go insane. You tried to do anything not to go crazy - a frenzied group call with a couple of your friends, deep cleaning your tiny apartment, creating a vigorous workout schedule, even binging several horror movies from Netflix. 

But when the third week came around and you heard that too familiar _ding!_ At 5:32 am, just like clockwork, your brain cleared itself and became so loud at the same time. It took everything in you to keep your composure and prevent yourself from bursting into a million pieces.

“Hey,” he let out softly, walking up to the counter. 

“Hi. The regular?” 

“Yeah.” His body shook, like it was just learning to get used to the cold. “It’s freezing out there.” 

“Must be the post blizzard chill from a couple weeks ago.” 

“Oh. I was in San Francisco, on a case. Much warmer than right now.” 

So you were right. “Oh, I figured as much. Your total is $8.25, per usual.” 

He swiftly paid and went to his seat as normal. You did your thing like habit told you, and maybe it was the inherent absence of your coworkers sitting outside, maybe Zoe finally managed to possess your body, but something in you knew exactly what to do. Summoning up all the confidence that you mustered from your past shenanigans, Frank’s comment, and coworker number five’s dumb text, you grabbed a paper napkin and wrote your number on it. Damn, you were so nervous. You were afraid you were going to spill half his coffee on the short walk over. 

Slowly and steadily, you brought his order over. Just like one of those very first interactions with him, you practically ran back over to behind your counter of safety. You stayed there in utter anxiety, the kind you hadn’t felt for a very long time, until twenty minutes later when Spencer cried out a squeak. _He_ had spilt some of his coffee. 

Grabbing the floor rag to mop it up, you went over to clean the spill. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Did I make it too hot or-”

“Are you flirting with me?” 

You looked up to see he was holding the napkin in his hands. _Your_ napkin. Oh. 

You swiftly stood up and straightened out your apron. Glancing in Frank’s direction, as a reflex, you forced out a nervous cough. He was looking at his wife but you could tell he was trying not to smile. “Um, yeah. I kinda have been for a while.” 

He looked back down at the napkin. “Oh.” 

You fell into the chair across from him. What was going on? Did he really not know? He got nothing from the severely aggressive flirting? All the hand touches, and the trying so very hard to be interested in every word he said. And what did he mean by “oh?” Was it a disappointed “oh,” or a surprised “oh,” or just simply “oh?” How could you stop your hands from being so sweaty? Your fingernails were currently scratching at your palms but it wasn’t doing much, clearly.

“How long have you been flirting with me?” He looked back up at you. His eyes, hidden behind his college boy glasses, were big. He looked genuinely curious, while maintaining his naturally soft behavior that was so very him. 

“Like, pretty much this whole time. Wait, you really didn’t know?” 

“No. Was I supposed to?” 

“But you’re like a genius. I thought you knew everything.” 

“Actually, it’s impossible to define a person’s ability to quote unquote ‘know everything.’ Of course, we learn something new every day; that’s only human nature. But by definition, it would have to boil down to what one means by knowing everything. If you-” He cut himself off when he saw the very familiar look you were giving him. “Sorry. No, I don’t know everything.” 

You scratched the back of your neck. “Oh, well. This is me saying that I do like you and I have been flirting with you. And that is my number. Do with that what you will. Just please don’t give it to any creepy people.”

He nodded. “Okay. Thank you.” 

You stared at him for a while. “Does… that mean?”

“Oh! Yes, I will use it.” 

You let out a relieved laugh. 

Doctor Spencer Reid was definitely the smartest person you knew, and he was also the most clueless. It was a good thing he was cute, though.


End file.
